Sulit
by The Readers Muse
Summary: Hubris was a fantastically cut-throat animal, he decided.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own "The Blacklist" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** Part 2 of the "Blacklist Sentinel and Guide" AU series. I love the Sentinel/Guide trope so here we are. Raymond is a Sentinel: (a person with enhanced senses) And Lizzie is his Guide: (a person who helps a Sentinel control their gifts and keep them from 'zoning' or hyper-focusing on one sense and thus vulnerable.) The connection or bond between a Sentinel and Guide is a soul deep and almost spiritual thing that is generally considered pre-destined. Much like the soul-bond/one-love trope. *In this version Sentinels don't come online until they meet their Guide, the person best suited to help them balance these abilities – essentially the other half of their soul.

 **Warnings:** sentinel/guide, bonding, dubious consent, sexual content, drama, romance, oral sex, au on 1x01, animal traits.

 **Sulit**

Hubris was a fantastically cut-throat animal, he decided. Puffing out a frustrated, hungry sound into the soft of her lips as she straddled him. Grinding into his lap as he strained upwards. The cuffs around his wrists and ankles keeping him useless and leashed inside the containment cube.

He wasn't immune to irony's pitfalls.

He kept track of his sins, thank you kindly.

And while he was many things, blindly foolish generally wasn't one of them.

Somewhere outside the humid little eco-system they'd created for themselves, he was aware of people yelling. Of the sound of safeties flicking off guns. Of the echo of someone running. An angry, disbelieving curse. Of Simmons shouting through the open line for Lizzie to get off him. To back away. To-

No, his downfall came from the assumption that the world was as predictable as his machinations.

 _Oh how lovely irony was!_

 _For his boldest move to be one she countered within seconds of sharing the same intimate air._

 _Life was, as ever, unpredictable and coy._

Her warning snarl was delicate, poised, as Agent Ressler inched towards the mouth of the containment cube. Gun up and trained on him - mouthing sounds neither of them understood until Lizzie shifted. Ignoring the Agent's extended hand in favor of covering him with her own flesh and baring her teeth. Brown hair feathering down his neck in tickling waves that made him ache to grab and yank and sink his teeth.

His answering sound was far more vicious. Building into a deep, rumbling growl that found a vibrato-like quality in the barrel of his chest. Staring over the curve of her shoulder at the Agent as something belated clicked in the man's expression.

 _Bonding._

 _Sentinel._

 _Guide._

Those three words were the only ones he could put meaning to as Agent Ressler slowly backed away. Speaking into his ear-piece as Simmon's voice roared like a cresting wave in his ears. Loud. _Too loud._ Too much.

He jerked, caught in place and unable to escape. Suddenly handicapped by a rushing flux of sensitivity he couldn't account for until now.

"He's zoning out- sir, we have to release his restraints. He needs to feel her, he needs to ground himself somehow or he might go into cardiac arrest. Presenting as a Sentinel at his age, it might-"

Lizzie pressed a worried kiss into his cheek, whining out a soft, comforting sound as he tried to bury his face into the crux of her neck. Knowing somehow that he'd find relief there - comfort. She burrowed deeper into his lap. Surrounding him as much as possible, shielding him from the brunt of it as he started to shake apart.

So much for best laid plans.

Like a toy that had suddenly ceased to be interesting, he found himself saddled with the reality of having to rethink his entire life's work in a matter of what would probably be hours. A day at most if he was lucky.

His head lolled. Positively glutted on her as her teeth scraped down the white of his throat. Feeling everything - _all of it_ \- all the way down to the haze of her breath on his skin and the microscopic imperfections in the enamel of her teeth as they stung pleasantly down his skin.

 _He wanted._

His nostrils flared as the iron tang of blood rose between them. The cuffs around his wrists biting into his skin until it finally split. Dappling the floor with pretty splatters of crimson as the two-way line of communication in the containment cube snapped off with a burst of static.

 _God, he was almost giddy._

He snarled when she pulled away. Impotently possessive at the idea of his Guide being out of reach. But he needn't have worried. Because between one breath and the next she was tugging at the buttons of his waistcoat, sending them pinging every which way as the mechanism below their feet powered up. Retracting the platform into the containment cube and sealing the exit. Discovering a strange sort of victory in that incarceration as the camera in the corner blinked red.

Because Lizzie was his.

 _His Guide._

 _His._

Goodness, what a feeling.

He grunted when she turned her attention to his belt and slacks. Leaving his shirt parted on either side, skin bare as much as his bonds would allow. He hissed through his teeth when her hands firmed around the top button, chest heaving. Cock so hard it burned against the line of his zipper.

His head fell back, vision blurring.

He'd never felt like this before. So painfully needy. _So_ _desperate_. Willing to lose everything he had just to be able to touch her. Unable to articulate the speed at which he was falling apart as she squeezed him through his layers. Ducking down to nuzzle at the firm of his crotch as the tendons in his thighs all but vibrated.

It was a surprise when the restraints around his ankles beeped and fell loose. Sending them both scrambling to free his lower half as he parted his legs and arced his back as much as his other bonds would allow. Tripping her willingly as he squeezed her close, ankles crossing behind the soft of her ass and keeping her there. Inhaling throatily as he committed everything to memory. Feeling unsteady. Powerful. _New_.

The tense expression on her face smoothed in gradients as his legs provided a steady pressure against the back of her knees. It was no where near enough, but still, he was able to watch as want and need settled into the faint lines around her mouth. Rumbling out an encouraging sound as her hand slipped under his slacks. Curling warm and humid and _so_ _incredibly_ _good_ around the thick of his cock that he might have actually whimpered.

Anywhere she touched was instantly soothed.

Like water to flame.

Salve to a burn.

 _She_ _was_ _the_ _remedy_.

"Mine," he rasped, hyper-aware that he could come like this. With her scent wreathed thick around his head and her hand around his cock. Saliva pooling in his mouth as she mangled the buttons of her black slacks and let them drop around her ankles. Baring long creamy legs and the lacy purple v of her underwear before they followed suit. Inhaling immediately as the musk of her made his eyes roll back.

 _Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine._

He couldn't have stopped himself from letting that dangerous word free even if he'd wanted to. None of them were built for that kind of self-sabotage.

And as luck would have it, it seemed to be exactly what she needed to hear. Because suddenly she was in his lap, straddling him again. The lips of her sex warm against the head of his cock as she held them there, poised on the precipice before-

"Mine," she echoed, biting the next kiss from his lips with a vicious sort of love that sparked through him like a craving. Drawing blood in the most glorious way as she sank down. Pulling an animal sound from deep in his throat as he was _finally_ , unbelievably buried in her.

 _Perhaps there was a god after all._

It wasn't the usual response of a Guide to their Sentinel. Not a breathy _'yes_ , _yours_ " to sooth any ruffled feathers when it came to dominance and all the trifling legalities that still clung from yesteryear. It was a statement of crisp, uncompromising equality. And if he hadn't been smitten with her already, he would be now.

 _Perfection._

If the cuffs around his wrists went slack in the interim - between the moment she started moving and the eventual blackout-pleasure that followed - well, he wasn't consciously aware of using the advantage.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. There will be more to this series.

 **Reference:**

\- Sulit: something that is worth it.


End file.
